


Insubordination, part IV

by Steena



Series: Transgressions verse [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle Scenes, Field repairs, Friendship, Implied dystopic life situation, Pain, Serious Injuries, brothers in arms, implied slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steena/pseuds/Steena
Summary: Casualties are a given in war, and the dedication of the fellow soldiers may be the difference between life and death for a Warframe. Pain is the only thing certain when there's a set price for what a mech is worth to spend on repairs.
Series: Transgressions verse [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630393
Comments: 12
Kudos: 9





	Insubordination, part IV

::I'll cover you.:: Blackout's hoarse voice reaches him over comms at the same moment as he hears the Helo in the sky, approaching his flank.

::Going in!:: He moves forward, giving fire as he moves from cover to cover, dropping, stopping, and rolling.

There are hits of heavy weaponry that aren't his; reassuring craters that are signs that he has one of his good soldiers to watch his back.

Ironhide is crawling along an alley — slow progress is still progress — when he hears a loud explosion behind him. Core programming has him looking up, but all he sees is the edges of a ball of fire, and some falling debris.

::Blackout's hit, I repeat: Blackout is hit!::

Even over the alarm of the battle, he hears the noise of the heavy Helo hitting the ground, and Ironhide's spark makes a queasy roil before it plummets. He turns back, advancement forgotten, and leaves the alley at a hurried sprint, charging towards the obvious new wreckage in the middle of the street they just conquered.

_Please be alive, please be alive, please be alive..._

It's Blackout, alright, but he's bad off, _really_ bad off; wiring is severed, sparking ominously, energon is seeping from his wounds, and there's a massive hole in the side of his chest, his spark chamber visible and dented. The Helicopter moves sluggishly and without clear intentions of what he's trying to achieve — clearly in agony — and he seems to be on the verge of going into stasis. Ironhide's programming tells him the probable cost of repairs, and that Blackout isn't worth it, considering his age, battle mileage, and the work and parts probably needed to fix him. 

_He's supposed to leave Blackout here and let him extinguish all alone, in a shoddy street, and then when the battle is over, he should pick up the carcass, and bring it back to be used for parts, or smelted. Fucking bastards._

::Nitro! Cover me while I get him out of here. The rest of you, send these fuckers to the scrap heap.:: Ironhide orders, spark spinning wildly in his chest while he throws Blackout over his shoulder.

_He may not be able to save him, in fact, moving him like this may be the last nail in the coffin, depending on Blackout's injuries, but he can't repair the Helo in the middle of the street, and he fucking_ is _going to try to patch him up._

He finds a cave just outside the edge of the city, well behind the front line that's steadily advancing. Blackout, who has been limp as if in stasis the entire way, groans, optics onlining, when Ironhide puts him down.

"Status report?"

"'m almost out of fuel." Blackout grunts.

"Fuck."

Ironhide grabs his repair kit, and goes through Blackout's subspace to find his, because he's going to need both. He caps the biggest fuel lines that are severed, and crimps the smaller ones, wrapping some tape around them — not ideal, but it'll have to do — then he starts stapling the biggest injuries on Blackout's protoform.

"I'll give you some of my fuel."

"My coding is screaming about wasting resources on scrap." Nitro says as he enters the cave after clearing the surrounding area.

"What does your logic circuits say?"

"That I very much prefer being online, and I wouldn't be if you hadn't wasted resources on me when I was scrap, so this is a logical thing to do if Blackout wants to stay online."

"I do prefer living." Blackout groans, voice cutting off into a nasty electronic scream when Ironhide pulls a bracket into alignment, riveting it in place.

"Sorry. Need to stabilize your chest."

Blackout is panting noisily, biting into his lip-plate.

"Don't cause any more leaks. What are your levels?" Ironhide warns him.

"Three percent."

"Status on the leaking?"

"Still some minor leaks."

"Here." Nitro Zeus says, holding out one of his disconnected fuel lines.

Blackout curls his torso to reach, but there's a horrible, crunching sound, and he immediately falls back with a pained hiss. Nitro bends closer to allow Blackout to drink without aggravating his injuries.

It's something most mechs wouldn't do; drinking from each other's fuel lines, but they don't hesitate a second. It's quicker this way than using their emergency packs, and it's sometimes the difference between life or death.

::Status report.:: Ironhide comms the others.

::A few mechs left, holing up high up in a tower. They've got some anti aircraft artillery, so Springer can't get them.:: Breakdown answers, sending a scan of the building.

::Just bring the building down. Take the base structure out, and they'll be crushed in the rubble.::

::Got it, boss.::

"Nitro, go salvage something I can use to stabilize this." Ironhide says, pointing to the hole in Blackout's chest.

There are broken brackets, and plating hanging loose, and it's easy to see why it hurts so bad; there's no real structural integrity left in Blackout's chest, making it more or less collapse away from pressure, or towards gravity. They need to find something to use as splints and brackets, and they need to make it good enough to be at least semi permanent until they can find better replacements, or Blackout's self repair has integrated the parts, because the medics won't fix this when they get back, can't even be informed of the damage, or Blackout is going to be terminated and recycled.

"How's your spark feeling?" Ironhide asks, eying Blackout's dented chamber.

"Like it just moved into a minibot hangar."

_Fuck! Then they need to straighten it, because it's hampering Blackout's functioning, but he's certainly no expert medic, and they have no resources._

"Then we need to figure out a way to fix it." He states bluntly, because Blackout is a clever mech when it comes to figuring out quick solutions to pressing problems, and he needs to know what they're up against. And it's Blackout's frame, so of course he should have a say.

"Yeah... Whatever it takes."

They lapse into silence while Ironhide does what he can with the things he has. Blackout's optics are brighter now that he has some fuel in his tank, but he's still sluggish, probably operating in a limp home mode. It seems like forever before Nitro returns with a few torn off limbs that may work as raw materials for crude repairs.

"Any ideas for how to fix his chamber?" Ironhide asks without preamble, because good ideas are short in stock.

Nitro Zeus frowns, looking at the still exposed component. "Weld a bushing to the casing, and use a slide hammer?"

_It would be excruciating, but it may work, may be their only option._

"Would you agree with that, Blackout?"

"I'll take my chances. My spark won't perform optimally like this."

There's long, silent moments when Nitro's and Ironhide's optics meet, but then they reach an understanding without words being spoken.

"I'll get more supplies." Nitro says, walking out of the cave again.

Ironhide continues to stabilize Blackout's chest, carefully leaving an open space to leave room to work on the Helo's chamber.

*****

::All enemies are confirmed as casualties.:: Springer's voice comes over the comms.

Ironhide doesn't have time to celebrate the victory, nor is he in the mood for that. 

::Well done, mechs. Get to my coordinates when you've finished up.::

::Aye, aye, Sir!:: Motormaster cackles, obviously riding the high of surviving, the lingering adrenaline of battle, and the thrill of whatever is to come.

They cut the comm, and Ironhide refocuses on Blackout's chest; far more stable than when he started, but the disfigured spark-chamber is still visible. Blackout groans when he pulls another plate into alignment to rivet it to a bracket. Ironhide can't help but think that this will be the least painful part of the procedure. 

_If Nitro manages to find or make the needed tools. Otherwise, Blackout is doomed to forever have a hampered spark, and 'forever' will turn out to not be all that long._

His heavy thoughts are cut off when Nitro returns.

"Think I found adequate stuff." Nitro says, throwing a bundle of things to Ironhide.

It's no more than a thick metal ring — looks like one of those things they put through the nose on a glitch bull to control it — a cheap household soldering torch and a few rods of metal, and a simple slide hammer, but it's better than nothing.

"Good job." Ironhide says, setting the things up. "Now I need you to hold him down while I do this."

Nitro nods once, and then he straddles Blackout's torso, pinning him down while not covering the opening in his chest. The Helo goes tense, holding his vents.

::Nobody report to high command that the mission is over until I say so, you understand? If they ask for status, you tell them we're still in combat. That's an order.:: He sends to all his subordinates, and they all reply in the affirmative.

_Hopefully they'll obey even if one of their superiors make contact._

"Are we allowed to disconnect your vocalizer?" He asks Blackout, because he knows that audial-splitting screaming is inevitable, but he doesn't want to just take liberties with his fellow soldier's frame. He coils one of the metal rods around the ring to supply some extra material to solder it in place.

"Go ahead. Don't want to be remembered as the squealing bitch anyway."

"Would require someone to survive long enough to remember you." Nitro quips.

Blackout laughs, but it's tinny and hollow, laced with his pain. Nitro cuts it short with a sharp yank on the wiring to Blackout's vocalizer, severing the connection.

"Ready, bro?" Ironhide asks, firing up the torch, straddling Blackout's hip to pin him down, and to get the best working angle.

Blackout nods once, frame even tenser. Ironhide grabs the ring, holding it against the wall of Blackout's chamber, and then he turns the torch on the metal. Blackout writhes under them, but he doesn't manage to buck any of them off, and Ironhide manages to keep the things in place until the metal melts together to fuse once it cools. Blackout relaxes slightly when Ironhide turns the torch off, but there's a lingering tension that shows how excruciating it still is, and his fans are working on full blast. Ironhide waits for the welds to cool, then he hooks the slide hammer into the ring. Blackout's vents pick up when anticipates the pain that'll come, but there's no point in stalling, because it needs to be done.

Ironhide pulls on the hammer repeatedly, using as much force as possible to minimize the number of hits needed. It still takes eleven hits to get the dent to pop out, and by the third hit, Blackout is already screaming silently in agony. By the fifthth, he dry heaves, and by the ninth, he falls into stasis. Ironhide hurriedly finishes, and cuts away the ring. The welds, and a small part of the ring will forever be left on Blackout's chamber as a scar; a reminder of how close he came to deactivation today. There's no point in wasting time on cosmetic fix-ups, especially not when Blackout may online at anytime, and they don't have anything to numb the pain.

As soon as he's done, he keeps working on the last struts in Blackout's chest, and then the plates covering everything, working as quickly as he can to try to be done before Blackout reboots.

*****

They walk into the base, and the newbuilds celebrate them as heroes because of the victory. They haven't yet learned how inglorious life as a Warframe is, and most of them won't live long enough to ever do. Their superiors don't care; it's their duty to win or die, sometimes both. Nobody seems to notice that they only raise one servo in victorious gesture this time. They do it to cover the fact that Blackout still isn't healed enough to be able to stretch both his arms above his helm.


End file.
